The bride and  groom – in full wedding ceremony regalia – and the bride’s little sister, are leaving the grand old cavernous Post Office in Ho Chi Minh City, where their marriage documents were reviewed carefully by agents of the government, and thwacked with multiple rubber stampings as evidence of their bureaucratic approvals.  The government now decrees that they are man and wife.  (I was unable to determine if it’s mandatory to apply for the documents in full wedding regalia.) But the bride isn’t finished yet; she wants this union blessed by the nearby church, once Anglican, now Catholic, to secure the union. Out they go, striding across the vast plaza headed for the nearby church and their final step in tying the knot, she holding her dress, her little sister holding the train, the groom holding her bouquet, but OOPS!

A lame, grumpy and very large tourist looms up in their path; nothing will stand between him and the stamps for his post cards. All stop.  But after a bit of backing and forthing, intervention and a sweet wish from the grump’s wife, a few apologies in each other’s native tongue, love once again conquered all, and off they go once again for the church. The bride and groom sailed down the rest of plaza smoothly (I was worried about her perilous footwear), received their blessing from the priest, stepped into a taxi, and were gone into the pell-mell stream of traffic to their new life.
 — Dun

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